Page 56 of Petrify

“Fuck,” he exhales, pressing his forehead—mask-less—against my shoulder. His cock breaches that ring of muscles, forcing its way in slowly, parting my ass around him. He slides in easily, and I already feel his saliva dripping down my leg, mixing with my arousal. “No one’s done this to you, have they?” I can taste the gratification in his voice. “I’m the first.”

“Baz—I can’t?—”

“Yes you can,” he groans, lips brushing my skin. “I love when you say my name. Like when you say it, it’s not a bad word.”

“I’m just—You’re so?—”

“What?” He brushes my hair away from my neck, kissing the skin at my nape. “What am I?”

“Your dick is too big.” I’m panting, squirming underneath him, and it already feels like he’s as far as he can go, and yet his hips are not pressed against mine.

“You can do it,” he whispers. “Relax.”

A whimper slips from me, the most pathetic, needy sound. I think I’m going crazy. There is no relaxing when he’s sheathing himself into me like this. He’s still sliding in, until he’s not, and I’m so fucking full I feel himeverywhere.

He doesn’t move, allowing me to breathe for a moment. His hips are pressed against mine. He brushes my hair out of the way, fingers wandering softly down my spine, around my waist, until he finds my clit again.

“Shh. I got you.”

He only circles it three times before I’m clenching around him again, my muscles spasming involuntarily. I cry out, unable to hide the sound as I come around him, electricity shooting down my thighs, forcing me to grind my ass against him, my pussy fluttering around nothing, a strange dissatisfaction when I’m still so full of him, too full, the orgasm rocketing through me harder, longer.

“I could come like this,” he exhales. He palms my ass with his other hand, claiming, tilting his hips just the slightest bit, nudging himself deeper.

My orgasm rocks through me for whole minutes, and by the time my mind is clearing, he’s already fucking me, each thrust brutal and deep. I’m a mess, entirely overwhelmed, babbling his name, hands gripping at nothing along the stone counter.

He’s turned me into something inhuman.

My spine arches, the strength in my legs waning, until he has me pinned by the hips, rutting into me like we’re animals. My cum and his saliva have made a mess of me, enough that he’s sliding into my ass with ease, in and out.

Seconds later, he’s jerking against me. “How does that feel, Mallary?” He hisses through his gritted teeth, his cock is twitching, spilling into me, fingers digging so hard into my hips there will be hand-shaped bruises by the morning.

“I—It’s—” Gasping for air, I can’t form a coherent thought.

When he’s done coming, he pulls away, slipping out of me in one smooth motion. Then his fingers are there, shoving his leaking cum back into me.

I’m utterly ruined.

Spent, sated, nothing but a shell. I want to see him so badly, I absentmindedly reach for the makeshift blindfold.

He grabs my hand. “Don’t.”

“When can I see you?” My head is still foggy, too light, too calm, thinking onlyhim, him, him.

He’s silent, and when he lets go of me, my flesh mourns the loss, knowing he’s donning his mask again. Only then does he reach for the strip of fabric at my eyes and pull it free. “You don’t need to see my face.”

It takes all my strength to hold myself up against the counter. “But why can’t I?”

He leans forward, a hand on either side of me, caging me in. “Because I don’t want you to.”

“That’s not very fair.” I glance at the smooth bow lips of the mask. I want to kiss him. I want his lips on mine, his eyes on mine, his body in mine. “Not after—this.”

“This,” he says, eyes narrowing.

“And the last two times,” I add.

He studies me, and maybe his brows furrow, but I can’t really tell. I reach for him, needing to touch him, and he almost—almost—flinches.

“Do you—do you think I’ll hate you?”